Page 23 of Fletch

I kick off my boots and strip to my boxers before lying down carefully beside her. Just being close to her might make me feel less guilty for what I’m about to do to her world once again. Hearing how upset she still is did nothing to ease the way I feel. I sigh heavily, placing my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling. She came for me first, that’s how I have to look at it.

I inhale, smelling vanilla, and slowly open my eyes. Gemma is snuggled against me with her leg thrown over mine, and I have my arms around her. She must sense I’m awake because she stirs too, stretching slightly before blinking her eyes a few times. I watch the confusion play out on her face, and when her eyes finally land on me, she gasps before unravelling from me and sliding over to the edge of the bed. “What the hell?”

I grin. “Don’t pretend you’re horrified, Snap.”

“I just broke up with my fiancé.”

I glance down at my morning hard-on and grin wider. “It might help you to feel better.”

She eyes my erection and her cheeks flush red with embarrassment. “You’re disgusting.” I laugh, slipping my hand into my boxers. “What the fuck are you doing?” she gasps.

I close my eyes, shifting to get more comfortable as I wrap my hand around my thick cock. “What’s it look like, Snap?”

“You can’t do that in front of me,” she hisses, pushing to stand. I smirk, running my eyes over the black lace underwear peeking out from under the shirt I leant her. And then she realises she’s half-naked and tugs the shirt down.

“When did you become a prude?”

She glares indignantly. “I am not a prude. I just grew up.”

I begin to move my hand slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on her. “And became a prude,” I repeat. “You were so daring back then.”

“Before I knew any better.”

“You discovered you hated foreplay?”

Her cheeks burn a deeper red. “Where are my clothes?” she demands.

“In the wash.”

“I can’t leave here like this,” she snaps.

“Then stay.” I move my hand some more, and her eyes glance there before she spins around, turning her back to me. “Even better,” I remark, checking out her backside again. “You got a good arse, Snap.”

“Find me something to wear.”

“Come on, Gem, relax. Let’s have some fun.”

“Seriously,” she growls, then she marches for the door, ripping it open and stomping out the room.

I groan, diving off the bed and rushing after her. I catch her at the end of the hall. “Wait,” I tell her, but she continues until I wrap my arms around her waist and press her against the nearest wall. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

I feel her sag slightly, and then she turns in my arms and stares me in the eyes. “No more funny business,” she warns.

I give a slight nod as my erection prods against her stomach. She arches a brow, and I smile. “Not my fault, you turned.” I brush some stray hair from her cheek, and she gasps, her lips parting slightly. “Besides, you’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t help it.”

A range of emotions passes over her face before she throws herself at me, taking me by surprise. She slides her arms around my neck and scrambles up my body until my hands grab her backside. I keep her against the wall, playing catch-up in my brain as her tongue explores my mouth. When I’m certain she’s not going to change her mind, I carry her back to my bedroom and kick the door closed, not daring to break the kiss as I lower her to the bed.

Gemma

I push out the thousand doubts running through my mind as Fletch removes his shirt from me and runs kisses along my neck and over my chest. This could ruin everything I’ve worked hard for. Lord knows this would be enough for my father to have me kicked off the case.

I squeeze my eyes closed, allowing my mind to drift away and to lose myself in this moment. For once, I want to live in the moment.

Fletch pulls the cups of my bra down and stares for a second before taking my nipple in his mouth. A groan escapes me as he swirls his tongue over the swollen bud. He moves to the other, giving it the same delicious treatment. He slowly slides down my body, settling himself between my legs. Gently moving my knickers to one side, he wastes no time in swiping his tongue through my folds. Another groan escapes me. Peter hated giving me oral sex, and fuck, I’ve missed it. Fletch devours me, but it’s not enough to drag an orgasm from me. I’ve always found it hard to let go unless I’m alone.

Fletch crawls back up my body, supporting himself on his arms as he stares down at me. “You gotta relax,” he whispers, dropping a gentle kiss on my lips. Fletch was the first man to make me orgasm . . . and the last. Since him, no one’s taken the time to bother. He taps my thigh and orders, “Roll over,” and I do, because if I remember anything about Fletch, it’s that he knows what he’s doing. He slides a pillow under my hips and places one knee between my legs. I feel his hand there, rubbing his fingers through my juices before slipping one inside. “You ready, Snap?” he whispers, rubbing circles over my clit.

“Yes,” I groan, burying my face in the sheets as he works his magic. He takes a fistful of my hair and tugs my head back.

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